


Eyrie

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ray finds Philip in trouble.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Eyrie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Ray caught Philip out high, wandering around in a daze with his pretty eyes glossed right over, but Ray’s been an alpha long enough to know when there’s something _else_ going on. He could smell the faint beginnings of it on Philip’s green coat, and now the stench permeates his whole car, making it hard to drive. Ray hardens himself to it and keeps his eyes on the road anyway. He can hear Philip tossing about in his backseat. He had a bag of laundry for the laundromat there that he’s pretty sure has been ripped open. One of his socks goes flying over the back of the passenger seat. Then Philip makes a long, languid _moaning_ noise that has Ray’s fingers tightening around the wheel. He can’t believe Philip was just meandering around in the early stages of heat. _Anything_ could’ve happened to him. 

It won’t now. Ray’s going to make sure of that. He might be a scummy lawyer, a shit ex-husband, even a deadbeat dad, but he’s _not_ a bad alpha. He has to draw the line somewhere. He pulls down a side street and calls, “Hey, Phil—you got anywhere better to go than that old warehouse?”

Philip groans something back that sounds like a _no_. The warehouse is the only address Ray has for him. It’s big, dingy, cold—no place for a cute alpha as sweet as Philip to have to suffer through heat in. But apparently, it’s the only option. Ray’s kid still swings by sometimes when he’s pissed at his mom, and besides, Ray let the lighting bill lapse again. 

He turns off into the alley, rolling up outside the warehouse doors, and feels a swell of both relief and disappointment. It’s time to get the needy omega out of his car. He’ll need to get it washed to get rid of the smell. He’s not sure he _wants_ to be rid of Philip’s smell, but he’ll need to be if he ever wants to drive with a clear head again. Philip smells _damn good_ , and he looked even better when he bumped into Ray downtown—his honey-coloured hair a bedridden mess and his lips pink and open. It would’ve been so easy to pull his taut body against Ray’s, slip a palm against his chiseled cheek and draw him in for a kiss. Or two. Or twenty. Ray glances at the rearview mirror, but Philip must be lying down. 

With a deep breath, Ray pushes out of the car. His breath forms a little cloud in front of him, the weather frigid—the sky’s grey and probably just a few minutes away from raining. He opens the back door to usher Philip out but can see that’s going to be harder than he thought. 

Philip’s already built a nest out of Ray’s discarded clothes. Most of it’s just shirts, a few ties, a pair of dress pants—but there are a few pairs of boxers and socks on the floor of the car. Philip’s curled up in an oversized suit jacket, face relaxed and tired, ready to sleep. He actually looks like he’s perfectly comfortable right there in Ray’s beat up old car. 

Ray’s whole heart constricts. His ex was a beta. He fucked a male omega once in college, but that never got anywhere near heat. His first girlfriend used to steal his sweatshirts whenever she went through hers, and he hated it. 

Philip’s cuter than she ever was. Nicer. Kinder. Philip’s one of those weird junkies where Ray can never quite figure out _why_ he’s in the shit situations he is, because he’s damn intelligent and probably the most compassionate human being Ray’s ever met—someone who deserves a pleasant, cushy life instead of agonizing withdrawals and the cold steel walls of an industrial warehouse.

Sometimes, Ray wishes he was the sort of person who could offer that better life. He doesn’t think he’d mind Philip stealing his shit for nests. He doesn’t mind Philip stealing the whole back half of his car. He wishes he could just let Philip stay there, take Philip home with him, or maybe just drive out somewhere random and live out of the car until Philip wants to leave. 

Ray doesn’t have enough gas to leave the motor running that long. So he ducks inside and gently nudges Philip’s shoulder, muttering, “Hey, kid. C’mon. Time to go.”

Philip groans and rolls over. He buries his face in one of Ray’s shirts, snuggling deeper into his makeshift nest. It takes everything Ray has not to just crawl on top of him and shut the door. 

Ray insists, “C’mon.” He uses _that voice_ —a commanding alpha, like a few of those weird friends of Philip’s that never seem to be around when he needs them. It works: Philip winces but stirs. Ray gently tugs him up, then through the door, and Philip stumbles onto the concrete, clutching at Ray’s arms. Ray’s jacket is still plastered around him, and Ray doesn’t even try to remove it. He has to get Philip inside. He barely manages to shut the door again behind Philip before he’s half carrying Philip to the warehouse. 

It’s empty inside. It’s marginally warmer than outside but still pretty bad. A few lights flicker on automatically—the ones around Poppy’s tank light up her whole table. Ray takes Philip through to the ‘bedroom,’ and then Philip’s flopping down onto the mattress and curling into his pillow. Ray stands next to him, staring down, not wanting to go. He looks even better when he’s in a proper bed. Still handsome. _More available_ —there’s enough room for Ray to crawl in too.

Philip mumbles, “Can I keep your jacket?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He feels sort of like he should let Philip keep the rest too. It seems cruel to rip an omega from a nest they already started, but he can’t afford to replace that much of his wardrobe, and he knows Philip’s resilient. He’ll be okay. He’ll build a new one. Philip takes a minute to sit up properly, and then he’s rubbing his bloodshot eyes and swaying lightly. The cloying scent is swiftly fogging up the tight space of his bedroom. 

Ray tries not to breathe it in. He tries to go, but before he’s even made the first step, Philip quietly asks, “Can I keep you too?”

If Ray was _really_ a good alpha, he’d say no. He’d take Philip’s phone and call up one of those other alphas he knows—ones that must be better for him and surely want him as much as Ray, because who could possibly _not_ want Philip. But they’re not around now. They left Philip alone, like usual, to stumble through his own pain. Ray doesn’t have the willpower to leave. 

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and agrees, “Alright. For a little while.” Then he formulates the best excuse: “Somebody’s got to look after Poppy.”

Philip’s smile is heartbreaking. It pierces right through any defenses Ray might’ve had. He knows he’ll stay for as long as Philip lets him. 

Philip crawls over to hug him, and Ray lets himself be consumed.


End file.
